


Pailing Practice

by Atsugaruru



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Inexperience, Tentabulges, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 05:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14037597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atsugaruru/pseuds/Atsugaruru
Summary: Dammek and Xefros take advantage of a rare opportunity to makeout on top of the loungeplanks.





	Pailing Practice

If you were a midblood, you probably could’ve afforded an extra longue plank to fit in your rumpus room. But for now, the splaysac made do as your go to makeout spot. You’ve made quite a few happy memories in that seat alone, so much so that your nook now gives a reflexive little clench every time you walk past it.

For a while, you’d even fancied the idea of buying a concupiscent platform. The ones sold to lowbloods were probably terrible quality, and they were still very expensive, but the idea seemed so neat. You started saving up for one, until you realized how silly and frivolous an expense like that would be. You didn’t even have a matesprit! How dumb would it be if you got a platform just so you could fool around with your moirail?

When this all started, Dammek had assured you that this was nothing more than training. Practical life skills. All your kissing, touching,clawing, and bucket filling was strictly platonic and for didactic purposes. He was preparing you for the day the imperial drones would show up at your door.

“You have to know how to make your matesprit slurry, dude. Do you want to get culled?” He had told you. “I’m only watching out for you.”

And it’s been wonderful! You’re not gonna deny that. You really do appreciate everything he’s taught you about pailing. You’ve learned so much about yourself, about your body, and you get to be intimate with your palemate while you so it. Dammek’s been so busy ever since he became a tetrarch, but he still makes the time to be with you, and your pitiful little bloodpusher feels so grateful for it.

Except! The splaysac is very uncomfortable, and so is any wall or floor the tetrarch pins you against. And you know it’s not supposed to be comfortable. Your life has never been. It didn’t matter where you were doing it, as long as you were getting the hang of this stuff. But you couldn’t help but yearn for sloppy makeout sessions that felt a tad more flush. For the authenticity of the practice, of course.

After platforms, your loungeplanks always seemed like the next best options. They were soft, but sturdy. Maybe you’d even fantasized about Dammek pailing you there once or twice. Only your lusus usually hung around downstairs by his tree, and much to Dammek’s chagrin, you were too scared to even so much as kiss him if your lusus was nearby.

So it’s now, on a rare occasion when your slothdad is asleep upstairs, that it occurs to you that it’s the perfect opportunity to make out in the comfort of your loungeplanks. Your blood pusher speeds up as you type up a message to your moirail, trying to be discreet but forward with your intentions. A part of you fears rejection. He probably doesn’t have the time for you right now, maybe he’s not even home, or maybe he just doesn’t even want to deal with you. But no- you get a reply almost instantly.

“Go get the bucket.”

You scramble to get the spare pail out of the bathroom.

* * *

He has you pinned against the wall, his mouth kissing and sucking at your collarbone. Each time his fangs bite down, your knees grow weaker and your grip on his shoulder grows tighter. A hand slips up your shirt to tease at your sides, and you can feel that some of his claws have been clipped. Your thinkpan buzzes in excitement. He’s talked about the sorts of things you can do with that, but it always seemed to intense and too advanced for you. You could barely handle the way his bulge felt coiled around yours. What was he planning on doing with you tonight?

After some fumbling around to get your shoes off and to smooth out the towel, you let the tetrarch push you against the sturdy surface of the loungeplank. You feel yourself getting excited as he straddles you, pinning you underneath him. Dammek gives you a genuine smile as he wraps his fingers around yours and squeezes your hand. Your bloodpusher swells in a mixture of red and pale feelings, and you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the next kiss.

Dammek usually takes the lead, but you’re still feeling a little brave tonight, so when your moirail pushes his tongue past your lips, you give him a little nip. He rewards your confidence by squeezing your butt while you thread your fingers through his hair.

He moves his lips against yours, rolling his tongue in your mouth. Your start to rub against the base of his horn and he gives you a pleased little growl that goes straight to your nook. And you’re so content and happy right now. You want to take it slow, you want to just enjoy the intimate feeling of dammek wrapped around you and his mouth moving against yours. But the tetrarch is a busy guy, and you asked him to fill a pail with you, not for a pale session.

Your moirail grabs ahold of your hips and starts rocking against you. A tiny part of your thinkpan thinks that your lusus could wake up at any moment and walk in on you, but the thought only serves to thrill you more and has your bulge slipping out.

After a bite to your lower lip that makes you squeak, Dammek moves to mouth and bite at your neck, his lips warm and wet over your sensitive skin. You can feel Dammek, fully unsheathed, moving through the fabric of his trousers. At the realization, your bloodpusher pounds in anticipation.

The rough fabric of his pants grinding against your crotch has you moaning into the crook of his neck. As much as you enjoyed the way Dammek played with your bulge, you loved frotting him even more. The last time he was grinding against you like this, you actually slurried in your pants. You still weren’t far enough in your training yet to fully pail, but you honestly couldn’t imagine anything feeling more amazing than the way Dammek’s clothed bulge was rubbing against your nook.

“We’re gonna try something new tonight,” he whispers as he pulls away from you. Before your hazy thinkpan can even process what he said, Dammek pops open the button of your pants and palms your crotch over the fabric of your underwear. Your hips buck as the tetrarch rocks the heel of his hand against your nook.

“Ngnh!” You can’t help but rock back at the friction, your bulge sliding out now at full length. Dammek pulls your pants off with practiced ease, and then his hands slide teasingly up your plush thighs. He traces the outline of your bulge through your underwear, causing you to gasp. You’re hyper aware of the heat radiating from Dammek, the throb of your bulge, and the sweet aching of your nook.

His thumbs hook at the waistband of your boxers, and the tetrarch slides them down slowly, his eyes never moving from your crotch once. No matter how many times Dammek has seen you naked, it still feels embarrassing, almost humiliating every time he does. You immediately want to cover yourself up and hide yourself from him, but Dammek kneels in front of you and pushes your thighs apart to see what he’s working with.

Your bulge writhes on your lower stomach, throbbing with need and glistening with genetic material. Dammek lets it coil around his fingers, giving it a friendly little hello squeeze that has you moan. Right now, you really want to wrap your bulge around his, but Dammek’s attention is attuned elsewhere. He brushes his knuckles against the folds of your nook and you practically jump at the sensation. Your instantly clamp your legs shut, fingers gripping the towel below you. And you _hate_ disappointing the tetrarch, but he moves his hand to rest at your thigh anyways.

You can tell he’s making eye contact with you from behind his shades, and he doesn’t sound upset, but your bloodpusher still sinks when he says, “I’m going to touch your nook. You need to relax, ok?”

Heat sears in your face, and you feel ashamed. Dammek was always stopping and going slower than he wanted to because you were so sensitive. You couldn’t help it, everything is just so _new_. You whisper an apology to him, and then Dammek is kissing you again. Soft and sweet, just the way he knows you like it.

He cups his hand over your cheek and starts papping and soothing at your face, just like he does during your pale sessions. Another wave of warmth floods over your body. The familiar calming sensations settle your thinkpan. You know your moiral would never hurt you, he’s only trying to help you get used to this stuff. You’re going to be brave for him. This time when his hand slides down past your bulge, you shudder, but calm yourself enough to spread your legs for him.

His fingers stroke gently at the puffy, wet lips of your nook, giving you time to get acquainted to the sensations. Your thighs are shaking now, and your bulge slithers down to wrap around his wrist, but Dammek is not one to be deterred. He palms your nook again, and pauses, before slipping two of his fingers inside of you.

Oh, and that feels _very_ different than touching your bulge does. You try to get used to the sensations, his fingers rocking and rubbing at unfamiliar nerves that send little sparks of pleasure shooting throughout your body. He pushes them in and out of you slowly, going in deeper and deeper every time.

“Are you ok?”

You nod blearily, twisting the towel in in attempt to steady yourself.

Embarrassing little wet noises mix with the sound of your heavy breathing and you think Dammek might have even started purring from this. You try to make eye contact with, but his head is tilted down. He’s watching himself, entranced, as his fingers rock in and out of your nook.

Pleasure has finally started to overtake your body. Your hips arch off the loungeplank, and Dammek takes it as a sign to push a third finger into you. He shifts his attention to stretching and curling his fingers inside of you. You wail in response, but tetrarch’s spare hand squeezes your hip in reassurance.

“God, look at you,” he hisses. “You’re so fucking hot. I can’t wait to stick my bulge in you.”

Genetic material seeps from your nook and has Dammek’s hand wet and slick from your slurry. Your inner walls squeeze at Dammek’s digits and pull him in even deeper into you, as if it were bulge. Only this feels nothing like what his bulge feels like against yours. His fingers go so much faster and harder. You vaguely wonder if he can reach your seedflap, and shudder in delight at the thought. You’re already finding it so difficult to breath, when Dammek forces his tongue into your mouth and licks his way deep into your throat, reducing you into a whining, quivering mess.

His fingers hit a spot that makes your back arch and you think you shriek. He sneers, and pushes against that spot again. Dammek seems to have found what he was looking for, and alternates between scissoring his fingers inside of you and stimulating that sweet spot that’s making you see stars. The combined sensation of his fingers twisting and rubbing against your shameglobes while your bulge tries to fuck itself on the palm of his hand has your thinkpan spinning and pleasure wracking your body. Tears stream from the corner of your eyes, and that’s it, you don’t think you can take it anymore.

You try to warn him, try to say his name, but a choked sound comes out of your throat instead. Perceptive as ever, your moiral guides you up and over to the edge of the loungeplank, lifting up your trembling hips for you as you grip his shoulders like a lifeline.

With a cry, you spill into the bucket. Wave after wave of genetic material hits the pail, the entire time, Dammek’s fingers never cease their movement inside of you. His other hand is milking your bulge from base to tip, over and over again, as he pants and whispers dirty little things into your ear.

Your shaky mind can't comprehend how much time has passed when Dammek seats you back down. He squeezes out the last few drops from your bulge and slowly pulls his fingers out of you. Your entire body is still trembling, and your nook is still throbbing with aftershocks, but your bulge finally starts retreating back into its sheath.

You look down at his arms to see that his sleeves and hands are absolutely drenched with genetic material. You’d think any other normal troll would’ve wiped off the excess of fluid, but Dammek just slips his hand into his pants and starts working himself. He throws his head back and bites his lower lip to suppress a moan, face flush with bronze. A filthy realization crosses your mind, and you blush hard at the thought of him touching himself with your slurry, his bronze genetic material mixing with yours.

Dammek yanks his pants down and kneels over the edge of the longueplanks. The sight of his bulge makes your nook clench and your bloodpusher speed up again, because _oh wow._ You slot yourself behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Your face nuzzles into his neck, and you try make him feel good with your hands by rubbing at his hips and reaching up his hoodie to thumb at his grubscars.

He grabs your wrist and guides your hand down to his bulge, and you try to take over. Squeezing and tugging, movements you’d never use on yourself, but that you know Dammek enjoys. He dips his fingers into his own nook and, and with his other hand, grabs a fistful of your hair and forces you into a sloppy kiss.

Your teeth click together and you squeeze your eyes shut in a grimace. Dammek doesn’t seem to care though, as he pants into your mouth alternates between biting at your lips and at your tongue. His fangs draw blood, but the taste of your burgundy blood against his tongue only seems to have his bulge writhing and pulsing harder in between your fingers.

Dammek groans into your mouth as he cums into the bucket. The sudden onslaught of wetness makes his thrashing bulge slip out of your hand, splattering genetic material all over his thighs, his lower stomach, and onto the towel below you. You try to keep your grip on it steady, but quite a lot of his slurry ends up missing its target and hitting the floor. It suddenly occurs to you know that maybe the loungeplanks weren’t such a good idea after all.

His breathing slows down after a bit. Gosh, _you_ did that to him. He looks down at the contents of the slurry pail, but you can’t bring yourself to. You know he just finger fucked you, but it feels so filthy and dirty. Too intimate. Besides, you’ll have to look at it anyways later, since you’re the one who’ll be cleaning it out.

Theres spit running down Dammek’s chin when he tries to kiss you again, and it’s pretty gross, but you let him anyways. You had to admit that was pretty great. Really, you don’t know why you made such a big deal out of him touching your nook before.

You wonder if next time Dammek will pail you for real.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed it! X:)


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